Secrets Of A Lost Weekend
by snoozin81
Summary: Jesse and Puck put together a lost weekend after the Run, Joey, Run incident, only it doesn't turn out quite as planned.


He's sitting in detention; head down on his desk, when he feels warm breath against his ear. He assumes it's Santana because the chick's been seriously hot for him since she popped Finn's cherry. Apparently, Finessa couldn't get the job done, at least not to the standards of an expert like San.

"Hey, Noah…" The voice is definitely inot /i Santana's and definitely iis /i male.

Puck shoots up, grabbing the dude's shirt, fist ready to pummel whatever asshole thought it was okay to get that close to him. That's when he see's Jesse, a twisted little smirk quirking up the corners of his loser face. He lets go of the douche but not before giving him a good little shove to put some space between them.

"No hablo crazy, dickweed, the name's Puck. Now, what the hell do you want?"

Jesse laughs, fucking laughs, and it takes every ounce of self control that Puck can muster not to punch his fucking lights out. Dude doesn't realize who he's messing with.

"Easy," Jesse offers, holding up a hand in peace. "Look man, I'm trying to get together a little lost weekend, you know a boys night or whatever. I figure after that awful Run, Joey, Run train wreck we could all use a little girl free fun."

Puck narrows his eyes wearily at the new kid. He's not sure what Jesse's idea of fun is but based on the crowd he keeps - Rachel - he's pretty sure it's nowhere near his idea of fun.

"What did you have in mind?" he asks anyway, relaxing a little and slumping back down into his seat.

"There's a new club opening up down town, The Bare Naked Lady."

"If that's some lame ass musical about bears I..."

"No. It's not," he shakes his head and laughs again before putting his hands on top of Puck's desk. He leans in, once again invading Puck's personal space. "It's a strip club," he explains. "Which is why I'm coming to you, the guys are going to need fake IDs."

The words 'strip club' catch Puck's attention and keeps him from zoning out of the conversation while 'Fake IDs' put the final nail in the coffin.

"I may know a guy," he replies.

"I figured. I'll take care of transportation, you handle the IDs, and we'll be set for Saturday."

Puck nods, "Saturday."

**-0-0-**

When Thursday rolls around he walks into the choir room and spots Mike and Matt sitting on the top riser. When he catches their eyes, he cocks his head towards the piano and waits until they join him, before pulling out a plain white envelop from his back pocket. He extracts two ID cards from inside and hands one to each of them.

"Here's the plan," he begins, but he's cut off by Mike.

"It says I'm a four hundred pound white woman named Julia."

"Mine says I'm eight-four," Mike adds skeptically.

"Well you've got the vagina part down, so pull on a pair of your best granny panties and bleach your skin MJ style," Puck snaps. "It's a strip club in fucking Ohio; they're not going to look at it that closely."

Matt and Mike exchange a look of uncertainty and Puck thinks they're both fucking pussies. "Are you in or not?"

They both nod in unison, slipping their new IDs into their pockets. Mike clamps him on the shoulder and adds, "No dude, we're totally in."

Puck rolls his eyes because it took them fucking long enough. "We're meeting up at the Seven-Eleven at eight," he explains. "If you're not there the bus is leaving without you."

As he heads towards his seat he feels the weight of a second envelope, one with Finn's name scribbled on the front of it. Dude still isn't talking to him but based on Kurt's little impromptu solo a few weeks back he thinks his former best friend has a lot on his plate and could probably use a little fun.

He slips the envelope along with the date and time into Finn's gym bag during basketball practice. He figures the stupid, fucking oaf is more likely to show if he doesn't know who the invitation is coming from. It sucks but he'd rather Finn be there under false pretences than not be there at all.

**-0-0-**

He's lying in the bed of his truck, head hanging over the edge of the tailgate while Mike shows Matt some of his pop-n-lock moves. The air is brisk and he can see his breath with each exhale. He loves March, loves the way it still holds the harsh bite of winter but smells distinctly of spring.

When he hears the purr of an engine, he pushes himself up on his elbows so he can peer over the side. A sweet, two thousand ten, red Chevy Camaro pulls up next to his truck. He cocks an eyebrow and lets out a low whistle. He's not really surprised when Jesse steps out of the car. He's got rich boy written all over him.

"Nice ride," he offers, pushing himself the rest of the way up and spinning around so his feet are hanging over the tailgate.

"Christmas present from my parents," Jesse replies with a proud smile.

"Fuck man, all I got was a basketball and some clothes," Matt says, making his way over to Jesse's car to get a closer look.

Mike's right behind him, hand grazing the frame of the Chevy. "That's because your parents are lame."

"Not his mom," Puck adds. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and watches as Matt's hands curl into fists and he takes a step forward. Mike stops him with a hand to the chest.

"Fuck you Puckerman!"

"Boys, boys," Jesse interjects, "lets hold off on the insults until we're at least three sheets to the wind and waist deep in naked ladies, shall we?"

Puck leans back against the side of his truck. "We're waiting on one more."

"What the hell?"

As if on cue, Finn shows up. Puck can hear the anger in his voice, the same anger from a couple of months ago when Rachel had opened her big, stupid mouth and turned their lives upside down. Okay, so maybe he was actually the one to blame for all the baby drama but still, she should have stayed the hell out of it.

"Look man," Puck begins, but Finn quickly cuts him off.

"You put this in my bag?" He asks, holding up the fake ID Puck had made for him.

"I thought you could use a night out. You know, with the boys." Puck explains, nodding towards the others who have suddenly gone silent. Fuckin' assholes.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Finn throws his hands up in the air and shakes his heads, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm not hanging out with you. You knocked up my girlfriend."

"Yeah about that, I really think it's time you moved on man. I mean, it's not like I can undo it. Quinn's having my kid, whether any of us like it or not."

"That doesn't mean I have to like you!"

Puck rolls his eyes and sighs. Dude sure knows how to hold a grudge. Luckily Matt breaks his silence and attempts to be the voice of reason, "Come on Finn. You guys have been friends since you were six."

Mike nods, "Bros before hoes, man."

Finn shakes his head furiously, throwing the ID down at Puck's feet. "I'm not going anywhere with him. He broke the Bro Code first and Quinn's not a hoe."

Puck bends over and picks up the ID. "Whatever, dude! It's your loss."

"So, four instead of five then?" Jesse asks, glancing from Puck to Finn and then back to Puck.

With a single look, Puck tries again; silently pleading with Finn to come along but his former best friend simply turns his back on the group and storms across the parking lot. "Guess so," he replies, once Finn's tail lights have disappeared from sight.

"Want to drive?" Jesse offers, dangling the keys from his finger.

"Seriously?"

Jesse shrugs and tosses him the keys before making his way to the passenger side door. He lifts the seat up so Matt and Mike can climb into the back and then slides himself inside. "You coming or what?" he calls out the window.

**-0-0-**

He downs a Jager Bomb (or maybe six) and it burns acidic in the pit of his stomach but does little to ease the guilt that sits heavy in his chest, because Finn should fucking be here. They should be sharing this experience together like the pee balloons and the mailbox baseball. They should be comparing the naked ladies to the chicks at school and bragging about the nasty things they'd like to do to them; like the blonde in the corner who could totally pass for Brittany if Britt were to get a boob job or the woman stepping onto the stage that looks an awful lot like the new astronomy teacher.

The Asian girl grinding down against his lap kind of resembles the Goth chick from Glee club. It's making it kind of hard to get into the red zone or maybe it's just the thoughts of Finn that won't leave him the hell alone that's keeping him down. Either way, he's not enjoying the festivities nearly as much as he should be.

He catches Jesse watching him out of the corner of his eye. It burns hot against Puck's skin causing his stomach to boil. He thinks he might puke, so he shoos the girl away and announces belligerently, "I gotta take a piss."

**-0-0-**

They drop both Mike and Matt off at Chang's place. Puck's completely wasted so Jesse drives while he dozes in and out of consciousness, head resting against the cold glass of the passenger side window. When the car stops, he's disoriented, confused. He doesn't notice that the house they're parked in front of isn't his.

When Jesse leans in and kisses him, he doesn't put up a fight, doesn't stop it. He's never done this before - never kissed a guy - except for maybe that one time at camp when Brittany and Santana had offered to make out in front of him and Finn if they would kiss each other. It had been fucking worth it too because the contrast of pale and dark, of blonde and brunette, of Brittany and Santana, had sent them both scurrying to the bathroom, cocks in hand. But that doesn't count because it had been a dare and they'd all been sworn to secrecy.

When Jesse pulls away, Puck quickly turns his attention to the passenger side window and the sprawling estate they're parked in front of. He can feel the other boy's eyes on him; sense the heated tension stretching out between them.

"You fucking live here?" Puck asks, clearing his throat and pointing a finger at the house.

"Home sweet home," Jesse replies, and Puck thinks there's maybe a hint of bitterness in his tone.

He looks back at Jesse, who's studying the house. "Look, dude," he begins, shifting uneasily in his seat, "no offense, but slumber parties aren't really my thing."

Jesse smirks, turning his attention back to Puck. "You're inebriated and I'm pretty sure your parental unit isn't going to think too kindly of me if I let you stumble into the house drunk off your ass. You can crash in the pool house. I'll take you to get your truck in the morning."

Dude's been spending way too much time with Berry because he only understands the pool house part and recognition snaps to the forefront of his hazy brain. He's been here before, last summer. He cleaned the pool on a weekly basis, clear into September. He thinks now is probably not the best time to tell Jesse that he's fucked his mom.

He sighs, pushing open the car door and staggering out. The fresh air hits him hard and causes his head to spin. He balances himself with a hand on the roof of Jesse's car until he feels the other boy beside him, and then Jesse's lifting his arm and pulling it around his much steadier shoulders in order to hold him up. They stumble in unison around back to the pool house.

Jesse drops him onto the couch but his arm is still around the other boy's neck and it pulls him down too. They're close, too close, and he can smell the stale stench of Jagermeister and Red Bull. He's not sure who makes the first move - definitely not him - but their lips collide in a heated battle of i who's the bigger badass /i.

Puck totally wins because Jesse plays dirty. He slides his hand over the hard muscle of Puck's abdomen; fingers quickly sliding his belt free. He knows he should pull away, knows he should tell the dude to fuck off but all words seem to be lost, and the room's fucking spinning at like, warp speed so he's not sure he could move even if he wanted to. He's kind of in awe at the dude's skill and wonders how far he's gotten with Rachel.

When Jesse's hand wraps around him, it's with a firm grip, nothing like Santana or Brittany, or any number of babes he's bedded. The sensation elicits a gurgled cry from the back of his throat. It comes out more desperate then he's willing to admit because he's not into dudes. He's not. He loves the ladies. Loves the feel of Santana's smooth, silky skin beneath his fingers, loves the feel of Brittany's soft, heavily glossed lips wrapped around him, loves the way Quinn smells of vanilla and honey and a million promises she has no intention of keeping.

He thinks that maybe this is his punishment for knocking up Quinn, for screwing up his ten year friendship with Finn, for every fucked up mistake he's ever made. He's not Catholic but he thinks maybe, just maybe, his penance is written on the palm of Jesse's hand.

Puck thrusts his hips up meeting Jesse's downward slide. He tightens his jaw against the burn of skin on skin, dry, rough, heated. His fingers slide into Jesse's neatly sculpted hair, pulling violently. The other boy's gasp is hot against his face and Puck is easily able to find his lips, even with his eyes closed.

He loses himself in the feel of their bodies working together, and for the first time all night he's able to clear his head, able to forget about Finn, about his mistakes, about the baby girl he's going to have to hand over to strangers in a few months. It feels good to think about nothing but the pending explosion that's building below his waist.

When it's over and they're both lying there slick with sweat and sticky, he doesn't volunteer to return the favor. Instead, he pushes Jesse away and says in no uncertain terms, "You tell anyone about this and I'll fuckin' destroy you."

Jesse laughs condescendingly as he pulls off his shirt and climbs into the twin bed on the other side of the room. "Don't worry, Noah. Your secret is safe with me."


End file.
